Writing my story.
OK so here it goes I've decided to write a story about my life just so you wonderful people can understand why exactly I am the way I am.
The first real memory I have is a lady at Trinity Lutheran Church's Little Lamb Preschool getting upset with me for lieing. I had told some other kids that I could already read stories and of course, since I was only four, it was a total fabrication. Since I through such a fit about not being a liar the teacher called my Mom who came down with one of my favorite stories and had me read it to the whole class, teacher included. My Mom then made the teacher apologize. I thought that was hilarious. But, my Mom always stuck up for her kids. It didn't matter how angry someone got she would not back down, and you most certainly did not accuse her children of being something they weren't. She fought long battles with teachers, other parents and my Dad about little things that most people would completely blow off. For this I am eternally grateful for; it taught me to stand up for myself.
Somewhere between Preschool and Kindergarten my maternal Grandpa died. I don't really remember alot about the fellow except that he was always happy, he walked with a cane, and that he loved birds. My baby brother Seth would sit on his lap on the front porch or by the garage for hours just watching them float by. He always entertained the 3 of us and I wish I could remember more. His death was really hard on my Mom and Grandma, I know that I can recall both of them just crying and crying but no matter how hard I try, there is no recollection of his viewing, funeral service, or burial. I think about this and I realize my Mom and Grandma taught me something very important; Family is a wonderful things, and it's something we will all miss.
When I started Kindergarten is when I realized, no make that was informed, that I was different. I was already very tall, could read, and my family was poor. "Specialists" will claim that children don't really identify social classes until about 9-10 years old. I beg to differ. I was made fun of daily for the rest of my life for wearing hand-me-downs or home made outfits, laughed at because my Dad was a truck driver and my Mom didn't have a job, and of course the fact that I was about a foot taller than everyone else was always thrown in also.
To this day I love hand-me-down or "pre-owned" clothes. There is something that isn't right about stiff new outfits, they make me crazy. Living on the constant budget of a 21 year old I am glad that my Mom passed on the value of Hand-Me-Downs; it taught me to be thrifty and save my pennies.
As for my Dad being a truck driver, I thought it was one of the coolest things on earth. I loved to go for rides with him on the weekends or after school. He was always going somewhere but always on his way back home. Dad rarely missed a holiday and made it to nearly every birthday we had. He and my Mom had one simple rule while he was gone. No news is good news. If Dad called while he was gone it meant something was wrong, very wrong and they still go by that rule to this day. Their simple plan on how to keep in touch and when to call taught me yet another lesson; Never worry about being worried.
My Mom was a stay at home Mom and I loved it. When you got up in the morning she was there, when you went home for lunch she was there, and when you got home from school she was there. It amazes me to this day how most of our neighbors were so much better than Mom that they couldn't / wouldn't have a 2 word converstation with her, but if they needed someone to watch their kids after school it was always her that they went too. She always said yes, and was almost never thanked. When She said no, they treated her like she had never done them a favor before.
Dealing with the kid's at school would usually bring me home crying. My Mom would always give me a hug and depending on the mean things they had done or said to me she always said one of two things,"Kill them with kindness sweetie." or my personal favorite "They are rude, crude, and socially unacceptable." There was never any excuse for me to be rude or hurtful back, because if I was, then I and they were on the same lever of horrid. To this day, I keep my chin up, and make no excuses for being a good person. I try to be kind to everyone I encounter. It's amazing how many people notice when you say Please and Thank You. How many people are grateful when you hold open the door. When you smile at a complete stranger and say Hello as you pass, how many of them will smile back.
I call them manners and it's a shame that so many people will shake their head at you and accuse you of being old-fashioned when you use them. What is wrong with our world today, is that why it is so messed up? Because being kind and generous and using manners is old- fashioned? Am I the only person that thinks this is wrong?
Angelia joined our school in the second grade. Mrs. Yeutters class. She was the first friend I ever had, mostly because we were the two that were always picked last to play and taunted by the rest of our classmates. The faults we had that condemed us from joining the rest of the kids in the "Cool Group" was that She was a little overweight, had glasses and her family was poor, my faults were that I was still taller than everyone else, I liked to read, and yes my family was still poor. We bonded imediately and became the best of friends. We spent afterschool together, had sleepovers at each others houses, and always defended one another. My mom was right, if I was nice to people, they would be nice to me and I will eventually find someone who is worthy of being my friend.
Looking at the kids that I grew up with I smile and laugh and thank my Mom and of course God also that I was never part of their group. If they aren't college fail-outs or have 3 kids with 3 different people, then they probably are in jail. Wow, they sure are cool. Boy oh boy I wish I could be as cool as them.
My Mom's Mom (Grandma) died and it was really really hard on all of us. I used to spend every chance I could at her house and it broke my heart that she was gone. We didn't have air conditioning at my Mom and Dad's so during the summer my Mom would take us all to her house to hang out in the cool. If we were good we would all get quarters to walk up to the A&W and get little rootbeers (yes I know that sounds like I'm talkin about the good ole days lol. We would mow Grandma's huge yard and as a reward she would either order KFC or Pizza Hut and that was a huge deal for us. To this day if I go to Pizza Hut I have to have hamburger pizza and squirt. Everything else there is just nasty anyways :-) Her funeral was really strange and I remember it was the first death that I ever really had to deal with and I panicked because Grandma wouldn't be able to breathe if they closed the box. And since then I panic when I go into dark enclosed spaces. I can't help it, and I know it's weird and blah blah blah get over it.
Between second and third grade the worst possible things that could happen to a little girl happened. First I broke my arm, then we found out I needed glasses, then I got braces, and then...my hair was cut short, very very short and permed and I continued to get taller and taller. I was the only suicidal 3rd to have ever existed. My Mom smiled gave me a hug and told me," You are beautiful no matter what, and in a few years those braces will be gone and you'll have a perfect smile. Your arm will be out of that cast and your bones will be so strong. And, if you don't like your hair, it will always grow back." She made me feel like I was perfect and I know now that no matter what people thought of my family or how we looked that we were a beautiful family becuase we had manners, we loved each other, and we were kind to the people around us.
Grade school and Junior High went the same as everything before. I got taller and loved to read and was a huge dork. But, one thing never changed. I was always made fun of and I was never good enough to be anyone's friend. At the end of Junior High I did make alot of really good friends and they forever changed my life. I always tried to do what my Mom would tell me to do and "Just kill them with kindness" but when that wouldn't work, for the first time ever I had people who were my friends standing up for me.
During the grade school Dad'as parents started to spend more and more time with us kids and I loved going to there house and tinkering in the Shop with Grandpa. It didn't matter how busy he was or how many customers were walking in he would stop and take the time to explain to me what things were and how it worked and of course make sure I went home as dirty as possible just to make my parent's crazy. This year when he passed away I realized how special he was to me. His other grandaughters would try to spend as much time as possible inside but if he needed to work in the shop or cut up a tree or run into town he'd always holler at me put on my bib's and come along. I was his go along girl and he always took care of me. It didn't take my Grandma long to figure out that I would purposely forget to bring along something to sleep in so that I could wear one of his old shirts. Grandma would just start to lay out an undershirt or an old button up shirt for me in the dressing room after I'd take my shower. I still love those shirts and when I'm just hangin out in the house I'll grab one and wear it around. One time just after I got my license I went to visit my Grandparent's in Overton on a Saturday morning and by the time I went to leave that night my truck wouldn't start. I tried over and over again to get it to turn over and it just wouldn't. I watched my Grandpa get up from the table put on his hat and jacket and walk down the stairs and just look at me. He didn't have to check anything he just kinda did his half way crooked smile at me and asked when the last time I'd put gas in the truck was. I imediately looked down at the gas gage and oh so smart ass-edly pointed out to him that I had a quarter of a tank left and he reached in the window flicked the gage and I watched it drop to empty, so did my smirk. He laughed told me to get in his truck, took me to the gas station filled up a can of fuel for me and then gave me money to fill my tank once I got to the gas station. When I went to leave he smiled and said," Shh this is one of our secrets, we won't tell your Dad ok?" Another time I got a flat tired in my cavalier and drove it off of a dirt road and ended up ruining the wheel and the first thing I did was call my Grandpa, he came out and smiled at me and it was the same old garantee," We won't tell your Dad ok?" That sentence became an important bond between us and I told everything to him and new that he wouldn't tell a soul. It didn't matter how many ditches he had to pull me out of or tires he fixed, or wholes in cars he patched, " He wouldn't tell my Dad." The best one ever is when he caught my Aunt Jen showing me her new belly button ring and me showing her my new tattoo. The look on his face made me feel like I was about to get my butt whooped but instead he laughed, asked if he could see it and that time made me promise not to tell my Dad. Then, he told me how there was no way in heck one of those crackhead's with an ink needle was going anywhere near him. LOL. He was always just flat out funny.
Growing up in Lexington is a pretty rough deal for alot of kids. There are 4 types of groups: The Mexicans, The rich and plastic, the nerds, and the total losers. Somehow I managed to get myself stuck in between the nerds and the total losers. There are alot of kids that I graduated with that I could care less if I ever saw them again. They were always rude to me and my friends not only to our faces but also behind our backs. Atleast if I had something I wanted to say about them I would do it to their face. I would have loved for one of those 5'3" 110lb morons try and talk crap to me. Ha who do you think would win? I was 6'1" and 180lbs... real hard one to figure out. They stayed out of my way for the most part and I went out of mine to get away from them. I was in band all 4 years and tried just about every sport there is. I took all the advanced classes because they wouldn't be there. It was rediculous.
I didn't have alot of problems in high school just a few little ones that went on a long time. When people in our school finally found out that one of my friends was honestly gay they took it out on his friends. They didn't say or do anything to him besides give him crap mainly because he was 6'3" or so and was built like a tank. So instead it was me who was physically assaulted, robbed, beaten, and abused.
The first real memory I have is a lady at Trinity Lutheran Church's Little Lamb Preschool getting upset with me for lieing. I had told some other kids that I could already read stories and of course, since I was only four, it was a total fabrication. Since I through such a fit about not being a liar the teacher called my Mom who came down with one of my favorite stories and had me read it to the whole class, teacher included. My Mom then made the teacher apologize. I thought that was hilarious. But, my Mom always stuck up for her kids. It didn't matter how angry someone got she would not back down, and you most certainly did not accuse her children of being something they weren't. She fought long battles with teachers, other parents and my Dad about little things that most people would completely blow off. For this I am eternally grateful for; it taught me to stand up for myself.
Somewhere between Preschool and Kindergarten my maternal Grandpa died. I don't really remember alot about the fellow except that he was always happy, he walked with a cane, and that he loved birds. My baby brother Seth would sit on his lap on the front porch or by the garage for hours just watching them float by. He always entertained the 3 of us and I wish I could remember more. His death was really hard on my Mom and Grandma, I know that I can recall both of them just crying and crying but no matter how hard I try, there is no recollection of his viewing, funeral service, or burial. I think about this and I realize my Mom and Grandma taught me something very important; Family is a wonderful things, and it's something we will all miss.
When I started Kindergarten is when I realized, no make that was informed, that I was different. I was already very tall, could read, and my family was poor. "Specialists" will claim that children don't really identify social classes until about 9-10 years old. I beg to differ. I was made fun of daily for the rest of my life for wearing hand-me-downs or home made outfits, laughed at because my Dad was a truck driver and my Mom didn't have a job, and of course the fact that I was about a foot taller than everyone else was always thrown in also.
To this day I love hand-me-down or "pre-owned" clothes. There is something that isn't right about stiff new outfits, they make me crazy. Living on the constant budget of a 21 year old I am glad that my Mom passed on the value of Hand-Me-Downs; it taught me to be thrifty and save my pennies.
As for my Dad being a truck driver, I thought it was one of the coolest things on earth. I loved to go for rides with him on the weekends or after school. He was always going somewhere but always on his way back home. Dad rarely missed a holiday and made it to nearly every birthday we had. He and my Mom had one simple rule while he was gone. No news is good news. If Dad called while he was gone it meant something was wrong, very wrong and they still go by that rule to this day. Their simple plan on how to keep in touch and when to call taught me yet another lesson; Never worry about being worried.
My Mom was a stay at home Mom and I loved it. When you got up in the morning she was there, when you went home for lunch she was there, and when you got home from school she was there. It amazes me to this day how most of our neighbors were so much better than Mom that they couldn't / wouldn't have a 2 word converstation with her, but if they needed someone to watch their kids after school it was always her that they went too. She always said yes, and was almost never thanked. When She said no, they treated her like she had never done them a favor before.
Dealing with the kid's at school would usually bring me home crying. My Mom would always give me a hug and depending on the mean things they had done or said to me she always said one of two things,"Kill them with kindness sweetie." or my personal favorite "They are rude, crude, and socially unacceptable." There was never any excuse for me to be rude or hurtful back, because if I was, then I and they were on the same lever of horrid. To this day, I keep my chin up, and make no excuses for being a good person. I try to be kind to everyone I encounter. It's amazing how many people notice when you say Please and Thank You. How many people are grateful when you hold open the door. When you smile at a complete stranger and say Hello as you pass, how many of them will smile back.
I call them manners and it's a shame that so many people will shake their head at you and accuse you of being old-fashioned when you use them. What is wrong with our world today, is that why it is so messed up? Because being kind and generous and using manners is old- fashioned? Am I the only person that thinks this is wrong?
Angelia joined our school in the second grade. Mrs. Yeutters class. She was the first friend I ever had, mostly because we were the two that were always picked last to play and taunted by the rest of our classmates. The faults we had that condemed us from joining the rest of the kids in the "Cool Group" was that She was a little overweight, had glasses and her family was poor, my faults were that I was still taller than everyone else, I liked to read, and yes my family was still poor. We bonded imediately and became the best of friends. We spent afterschool together, had sleepovers at each others houses, and always defended one another. My mom was right, if I was nice to people, they would be nice to me and I will eventually find someone who is worthy of being my friend.
Looking at the kids that I grew up with I smile and laugh and thank my Mom and of course God also that I was never part of their group. If they aren't college fail-outs or have 3 kids with 3 different people, then they probably are in jail. Wow, they sure are cool. Boy oh boy I wish I could be as cool as them.
My Mom's Mom (Grandma) died and it was really really hard on all of us. I used to spend every chance I could at her house and it broke my heart that she was gone. We didn't have air conditioning at my Mom and Dad's so during the summer my Mom would take us all to her house to hang out in the cool. If we were good we would all get quarters to walk up to the A&W and get little rootbeers (yes I know that sounds like I'm talkin about the good ole days lol. We would mow Grandma's huge yard and as a reward she would either order KFC or Pizza Hut and that was a huge deal for us. To this day if I go to Pizza Hut I have to have hamburger pizza and squirt. Everything else there is just nasty anyways :-) Her funeral was really strange and I remember it was the first death that I ever really had to deal with and I panicked because Grandma wouldn't be able to breathe if they closed the box. And since then I panic when I go into dark enclosed spaces. I can't help it, and I know it's weird and blah blah blah get over it.
Between second and third grade the worst possible things that could happen to a little girl happened. First I broke my arm, then we found out I needed glasses, then I got braces, and then...my hair was cut short, very very short and permed and I continued to get taller and taller. I was the only suicidal 3rd to have ever existed. My Mom smiled gave me a hug and told me," You are beautiful no matter what, and in a few years those braces will be gone and you'll have a perfect smile. Your arm will be out of that cast and your bones will be so strong. And, if you don't like your hair, it will always grow back." She made me feel like I was perfect and I know now that no matter what people thought of my family or how we looked that we were a beautiful family becuase we had manners, we loved each other, and we were kind to the people around us.
Grade school and Junior High went the same as everything before. I got taller and loved to read and was a huge dork. But, one thing never changed. I was always made fun of and I was never good enough to be anyone's friend. At the end of Junior High I did make alot of really good friends and they forever changed my life. I always tried to do what my Mom would tell me to do and "Just kill them with kindness" but when that wouldn't work, for the first time ever I had people who were my friends standing up for me.
During the grade school Dad'as parents started to spend more and more time with us kids and I loved going to there house and tinkering in the Shop with Grandpa. It didn't matter how busy he was or how many customers were walking in he would stop and take the time to explain to me what things were and how it worked and of course make sure I went home as dirty as possible just to make my parent's crazy. This year when he passed away I realized how special he was to me. His other grandaughters would try to spend as much time as possible inside but if he needed to work in the shop or cut up a tree or run into town he'd always holler at me put on my bib's and come along. I was his go along girl and he always took care of me. It didn't take my Grandma long to figure out that I would purposely forget to bring along something to sleep in so that I could wear one of his old shirts. Grandma would just start to lay out an undershirt or an old button up shirt for me in the dressing room after I'd take my shower. I still love those shirts and when I'm just hangin out in the house I'll grab one and wear it around. One time just after I got my license I went to visit my Grandparent's in Overton on a Saturday morning and by the time I went to leave that night my truck wouldn't start. I tried over and over again to get it to turn over and it just wouldn't. I watched my Grandpa get up from the table put on his hat and jacket and walk down the stairs and just look at me. He didn't have to check anything he just kinda did his half way crooked smile at me and asked when the last time I'd put gas in the truck was. I imediately looked down at the gas gage and oh so smart ass-edly pointed out to him that I had a quarter of a tank left and he reached in the window flicked the gage and I watched it drop to empty, so did my smirk. He laughed told me to get in his truck, took me to the gas station filled up a can of fuel for me and then gave me money to fill my tank once I got to the gas station. When I went to leave he smiled and said," Shh this is one of our secrets, we won't tell your Dad ok?" Another time I got a flat tired in my cavalier and drove it off of a dirt road and ended up ruining the wheel and the first thing I did was call my Grandpa, he came out and smiled at me and it was the same old garantee," We won't tell your Dad ok?" That sentence became an important bond between us and I told everything to him and new that he wouldn't tell a soul. It didn't matter how many ditches he had to pull me out of or tires he fixed, or wholes in cars he patched, " He wouldn't tell my Dad." The best one ever is when he caught my Aunt Jen showing me her new belly button ring and me showing her my new tattoo. The look on his face made me feel like I was about to get my butt whooped but instead he laughed, asked if he could see it and that time made me promise not to tell my Dad. Then, he told me how there was no way in heck one of those crackhead's with an ink needle was going anywhere near him. LOL. He was always just flat out funny.
Growing up in Lexington is a pretty rough deal for alot of kids. There are 4 types of groups: The Mexicans, The rich and plastic, the nerds, and the total losers. Somehow I managed to get myself stuck in between the nerds and the total losers. There are alot of kids that I graduated with that I could care less if I ever saw them again. They were always rude to me and my friends not only to our faces but also behind our backs. Atleast if I had something I wanted to say about them I would do it to their face. I would have loved for one of those 5'3" 110lb morons try and talk crap to me. Ha who do you think would win? I was 6'1" and 180lbs... real hard one to figure out. They stayed out of my way for the most part and I went out of mine to get away from them. I was in band all 4 years and tried just about every sport there is. I took all the advanced classes because they wouldn't be there. It was rediculous.
I didn't have alot of problems in high school just a few little ones that went on a long time. When people in our school finally found out that one of my friends was honestly gay they took it out on his friends. They didn't say or do anything to him besides give him crap mainly because he was 6'3" or so and was built like a tank. So instead it was me who was physically assaulted, robbed, beaten, and abused.